


Suffocated

by marktuan



Category: GOT7, K-pop
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe, Bottom Jackson, Bottom Mark - Freeform, Camboy Mark Tuan, F/M, M/M, Multi, Online Dating, Top Jackson, Top Mark, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 10:47:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8398630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marktuan/pseuds/marktuan
Summary: He's still living under his parent's roof at the age of twenty two: it's an embarrassment. Mark was supposed to have moved out at eighteen. While it does come with some perks such as his mother doing his laundry and cooking sweet homemade dinners, life in the house he was brought up in isn't easy. Especially when their rules are beginning to tell him what he can and can't be. However, while fulfilling fantasies of random strangers, Mark finds himself in a compromising position with one particular viewer of his webcam shows.





	

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This fanfic is in no way meant to represent or imply anything about Mark's family. All events are entirely fictional however I will mention some warnings. There will be homophobia, slurs and the like.

It's the only time he gets true freedom, so long as he cleans up before his parents come home which recently had become less predictable by the day. His parents obviously did it to catch him out; he wasn't allowed people over without a day or two of notice in advance and most certainly not when they weren't present. One would think he was ten years old with the rules they enforced but until he could support himself elsewhere ( which clearly wasn't happening anytime soon ) it was what he had to live with. It wasn't too bad, Mark barely left the house as is, he kept his room fairly clean and he was an all-around good kid.

However, he was a high school drop-out thus becoming invalid for further education, didn't pursue a career nor did he have the intentions to, so in a nutshell – Mark was an embarrassment. Not that it bothered him, Mark was satisfied with his life and honestly it wasn't like he was sat on his ass for days on end with nothing but a sweaty controller in his hand and a bag of greasy potato chips at his side ( at least not  _most_  days ).

In fact, he had an income of sorts. Occasionally, when he was feeling particularly frisky, Mark was a cam boy. Without even asking, he would sometimes receive payments for the small things he did and it didn't seem to affect his view of himself to use his body that way. He was just happy to find a new game in his collection each month thanks to it. If it got out to his parents, though, he was sure that he'd be disowned, banished even.

They barely brought him along to family events as is, if they discovered he had been selling his body to  _people_  through a webcam they'd have no second thoughts about kicking him out – whether or not he had somewhere to stay or not. Still, it was something easy he could do from home, usually when home alone where there was less chance on someone walking in on him. 

Hence why he was removing his joggers at this very moment, simultaneously holding his slender finger down on his Xbox controller and commanding it to turn off. Once done he ran up the stairs ( his bedroom situated in a basement conversion ), loud footsteps echoing through the old family home. Once in the kitchen, he stood still, a car door bringing his attention to the windows. His father's BMW had just pulled out of the drive and his mother had been out since nine this morning, before Mark even thought about getting out of bed, visiting family.

He had two hours at most, anything more and he would be risking getting caught.

Satisfied that he was truly home alone, rushed soccer sock-clad feet thudded back downstairs. Hopping into the computer chair, Mark spun around with a quiet hum of approval while the soft whirr of his laptop sounded and the screen illuminated his features. Running his fingers aimlessly over the keyboard, his mind filled with the endless possibilities he could be requested to do, some of them were strange he would admit but most were pretty easy tasks.

Mark received quite a lot of attention despite his body being slightly below average, it seemed these 'customers' were desperate for anything and being a decent weight and having a naturally thin body made him more attractive. Not only from women but men ( mostly men ) and he had to admit, he  _liked_  it.

Now, Mark wasn't gay ( at least that's what he would say if questioned, _especially_ in front of his parents ), it was through a computer screen – _it didn't count_.

Technically it did, but to the young American-Chinese it was all 'work' and nothing more. Professionalism, he would claim if he could admit it. Truthfully he hadn't told anyone, not even his best friend, he couldn't. Socially it wasn't something to be proud of, he'd be deemed a slut, disowned and chastised for it ( his father held strong views about _queers_ and he vocalised it on the daily ).

If there was  _anything_  about a homosexual relation he overheard or happened to glance at, they wouldn't hear the end of his rant until he went to bed. Which was probably why Mark was so in denial; so set on being straight because he  _had_  to be.

Their patience with him was already growing thin with every passing minute, he knew that if he didn't do something with his life within the next year ( something more substantial than a secret cam-boy ) there would surely be consequences. He had been milking off his parents since the end of high school, that was several years ago now, and while he'd love to do it for the rest of his life he knew that was unrealistic.

Luckily, Mark had been putting away  _some_  money since dropping out of school, having some kind of backup plan if everything went downhill, it wasn't much but it was enough to get by. So long as he didn't upset his parents until he decided where he was headed, he knew he could count on them for a little support. 

A jingle jolted Mark out of his thoughts, informing him that his laptop had finished starting up and was ready to be used. He quickly went to his incognito blog that he had created to essentially advertise himself and realised he had several requests waiting for him. The front page loaded before he could click to check them, photos of himself displaying across the screen. Mark blushed, embarrassed – it wasn't like he disliked the way he looked or anything, he just felt bashful and slightly conceited about how many photos he'd used just to give people a good idea of what they were  _paying_  for.

Thank God he was good at taking selfies because the kid had finished school with little to no qualifications and he had put no thought into where he was going either.

Mark was one to live in the moment, in this particular one he had webcam shows to put on. Ignoring the images on the screen, Mark opened the messages and began typing the usernames to Skype. It took mere seconds for his requests to be accepted and some of the people were already online. Starting with the first one, he opened a chat:

 **Anonymark**  
hey, when's a good time for you? i'm free.

 **Stranger**  
now is good

It was the most conversation Mark ever had and the familiar Skype tone sounded throughout the house. He yanked off his shirt and accepted the call, biting his lip as he did so. The screen illuminated, showing himself first and then the person's icon. They hardly ever put their own cam on, not unless Mark requested ( and even then only if they were feeling particularly generous ) but it wasn't like he minded.

Heck, maybe he was a little conceited hence why brown orbs kept flicking between his bare torso and the image of himself in the top right corner. He looked good, glowing almost. An olive expanse of skin was exposed for the stranger to see.

He heard a chuckle and then a command. "Take off your boxers" and the young man willingly reached down and gripped the black briefs he donned. Before he continued Mark looked into the camera, his heart was thumping: he had never quite gotten used to the feeling which in all honesty was a good thing – the more his heart raced the better, the adrenaline rush was what brought Mark back every time, that made him put aside the shame and own his 'job' without feeling bad. 

There had been several occasions where Mark had wanted to openly admit what he did for a living especially when his parents would knuckle down on his back and tell him that he needed to grow up and start supporting himself but he couldn't, nobody would understand. 

So, before he could please the other's wish he grabbed his phone and on the screen showed a balance. "Have you paid?" Mark asked, his voice a tad lower, huskier. He was honestly desperate for the show as much as the anonymous stranger on the other end. There was fumbling and then clearing of the other's throat, voice rough, Mark could almost picture how they looked. 

It took a simple 'just sent' and a refresh of his screen and Mark was standing, peeling off his boxers slowly. A bulge was barely visible in black briefs so it was no surprise the next immediate command was to take them off quickly. There was no playing with this guy, he was straight to the point and Mark couldn't have minded any less. In half of his sessions, Mark didn't even have to talk, he didn't know what he'd say if he would, but the moans from either end of the cams were enough to satisfy both customer and the young man. 

Ten minutes later sweat slid down his forehead, his chest was heaving and his body convulsing. Moans surpassed chapped, thick lips and Mark's head hung back. His fingers pumped aimlessly yet quickly along his member and he caved into the pleasure, thick ropes of his seed spraying across his toned abs.

A smirk settled on his lips, pleasing the customer more and he leaned forward, lips close to the camera and without even thinking he asked, "Do you want more?"

It was obvious what the other's answer would be but Mark only raised his phone again, reminding the customer what he had to do however the Skype call abruptly ended and he laughed breathlessly. A predictable reply, people often got what they wanted whether it be as simple as mutually getting off together or something more extreme, but Mark didn't mind for he had other customer's to please before his hours alone were up.

Reaching to his left, Mark grabbed some tissues and cleaned himself up, tossing the paper away. 

Another username was added to his Skype however before he could ask if they were ready for their session his phone alerted him of a payment. Confusion riddled his features – the bleached blond almost  _always_  had to remind his customers to pay but not many ever paid before the call even started.

Upon closer inspection, he noticed another absurdity: the customer had  _overpaid_.

As if on cue, paired with his sudden gasp, the anonymous Skype user began to call and Mark cautiously answered. He was about to ask where the money came from when a voice rang out. 

" _Mark Tuan_?"

He had never ended a call so fast and no sooner did he the door upstairs opened alerting Mark of someone's presence. His heart was beating so fast that it almost tore out of his chest and he closed down his computer and hopped back into his joggers kicking his spoiled boxers aside and throwing on a shirt.

 _He had_   _no time to think_.

The door to the basement opened as he thought about his blog – nowhere had he put his full name or any other information besides 'Anonymark' being his username ( and even so, he could have been  _any_  Mark in the world, however, it was the 'stranger's' first guess ).

"Mark?" the other familiar voice called down the stairs almost giving him a heart attack. 

"Y-yeah?" he managed, voice barely a croak. 

"You alright? You'll never guess what. I _forgot_ my office keys, you haven't seen them have you? I've been out all this time, meeting with the other girls at the office, grabbing everyone their teas, coffees and donuts and I was a laughing stock because I couldn't get into my office..." her story went on as she embarked down the stairs and Mark couldn't even bring himself to move, his mind racing.

He was barely focusing because he was recalling every detail off by heart from that website – there was nothing,  _nothing at all_ , that denoted to who he was behind the camera. Not even his photo portfolios held anything particularly obvious, his face was almost always cropped out. 

"––Mark?" 

" _No, mom_ ," he replied abruptly, cutting the woman off.

She gave him a look and frowned.

"My God, love, you look like you've seen a ghost are you sure you're alright?" her hand reached out to caress her son's flustered cheeks but he pulled away as though it burned. "What's wrong?" she demanded, it didn't take a mother's instinct to notice that her son was acting extremely out of character. "What have you done?" the old woman was looking frantically around for an answer. "––Gosh, it's awful messy in here Mark, I thought I told you to tidy this place up." she chided. 

Finally, Mark snapped out of it and shook his head, "I haven't seen them, no! I'll tidy up."

Shame, something he hadn't felt in a long time, cascaded over his form and almost brought him to his knees. He had no clue what to do, if it got out that he was selling himself out online he would never live it down – but someone knew and that was enough to ruin him.

He couldn't do this, not when he was already such a family disappointment. Suddenly the idea of earning money from home was crumbling to a pathetic idea he never should have looked up. 

"H-have you tried the kitchen?" he asked, grabbing his mother's shoulders and ushering her back up the stairs. She began to hit him.

"Oh, Mark! I wish you would stop pushing me away, I'm your mother, tell me what is wrong. I  _know_  there's something wrong." she huffed. 

"It's nothing, it's n-nothing. I ...was watching _deep conspiracy videos_ again and I fell into a spiral." 

She hit him once more on the head, barely a light tap. "You silly boy, you know how those videos get you, you'll be up all night overthinking useless things rather than thinking of your future. Speaking of which––"

"I know, _I know_. I'll be fine, mom, just go. I'll tidy up and keep my eye out for your keys." 

Finally, the woman subsided and left, climbing the stairs. 

Mark turned around with his fingers carding through his hair, tugging at the roots. "Oh fuck, fuck, fuck," he whispered under his breath.

Four years he had been on that website, four years nobody had recognised him, four years he'd kept it all a secret. 

 _Someone knew_ , that gave in to the possibility that  _more_  people knew. 


End file.
